Beyond The Mirror
by Zeweehoop
Summary: Dan finds his new mirror has a strange handprint. When touching the handprint, his relfection suddenly has a concious of its own. The reflection suddenly pulls him into an alternate universe where he and Phil never dated. Confused and scared of this new world, Dan has to battle the biggest enemy he's ever had- himself.
1. Chapter 1

It was Phil's fault, Dan thought. His boyfriend, being an extremely clumsy person, tripped over his own feet and landed on the floor with his elbow through Dan's bedroom mirror.

Dan was worried about his injured boyfriend, of course, but he really liked that mirror. So, when the pair walked around Tesco, Dan refused to purchase the mirrors Phil suggested just to spite the older man.

"Really, Dan, this one is exactly like your old one. This one just has a regular framed edge instead." But Dan wasn't cooperating.

"The color is all wrong," he waved his hand in dismissal. Phil rolled his eyes and walked over to a check-out counter to ask an employee for assistance.

Phil made a few hand gestures and mumbled something, but Dan couldn't hear much from across the isle. What Dan _did_ hear, though, was something along the lines of _annoying_ and _captious_. The assistant smiled and pointed to a particular mirror.

Phil disappeared and quickly reappeared, now holding a large mirror. Phil tripped slightly as he walked, and Dan couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

"There." There seemed to be a smug grin on Phil's face as he gently set the mirror down in front of Dan. "This is an exact replica of your previous one."

Dan scrunched his nose. "I don't like it."

Phil seemed to deflate a little. "It's literally exactly the same thing as your other one. No one can tell the difference."

"I can. One's shattered and the other is not."

"Just get the damn mirror," Phil growled.

"Alright, alright. Calm down. I was just joking."

Phil scowled. "Yeah, well, no sex for you tonight, then."

"Oi, that's harsh."

"I might change my mind if you, well, I don't know, carry this for me?" The darker-haired man batted his eyelashes cutely

"Oh, whatever. It's not even that heavy."

Dan was wrong. It was extremely heavy. Especially when you had to carry it up a flight of stairs. Hell, Dan could barely make it up the stairs normally. Adding extra weight didn't help.

By the time they both entered Dan's room, Dan was a sweating, panting mess. To Dan's dismay, Phil appeared to be enjoying Dan's torture.

Dan demanded that Phil should make the dinner tonightas Dan was currently wheezing on his bed from exercise.

After only recovering slightly, Dan turned towards the mirror. He placed it exactly where the old one used to be, and if it wasn't for the scar on Phil's elbow, there was hardly any proof that the shattered mirror even happened.

That's when he noticed a handprint on the lower left corner of the glass. He could have sworn he only touched the frame.

He got up and picked up some glass-cleaner, and sprayed it on the print. He swiped it off with a rag, but after the blue liquid was wiped off, the messy handprint still remained. Dan squinted, inspecting in closer. Dan was sure he didn't see the stain at Tesco.

He noticed his reflection was off. He glanced at his face, but it somehow seemed malicious. He smiled, thinking his scowl from trying to spite Phil earlier had somehow locked into place, but to his horror, his reflection remained malicious when he smiled.

He shook his head. He didn't know it was possible to hallucinate from exercise, but then again, he never did so he wouldn't know.

Dan lined his fingers with the handprint's on the mirror. His hand matched the size of the mirror's print. This was his handprint. He glanced up at his reflection.

"Hello, Daniel," the reflection greeted, inspecting his nails.

Dan dropped the cleaner on the floor, the contents in the bottle spilling out. He retracted his hand from the handprint but the evil reflection didn't seem to leave.

The reflection didn't say anything, but rolled his eyes and made a silent huff that Dan suspected was a scoff.

"Dan, are you okay?" Phil's distant voice could be heard.

"Yeah, fine. Just dropped the glass-cleaner," he called back, eyes still locked with the reflection's.

"And you made fun of me for being clumsy," Phil said. Phil didn't seem to be walking near Dan's room, to Dan's relief. He did not want Phil thinking he's a nutter for hallucinating.

Was it really just a hallucination, though? The reflection still seemed vicious.

"Hello?" Dan whispered to the reflection, hoping Phil couldn't hear. The reflection rolled his eyes and pointed to the handprint. Dan stared. The reflection pointed again, this time with more enthusiasm.

Dan understood what the reflection was trying to communicate, and he lined his hand with the handprint once more.

"You'd think that after over twenty years of seeing yourself in a mirror, you'd be used to your own features. Wouldn't blame you, though, you _do_ look hideous," the reflection drawled.

Dan jumped back as if burned. The reflection raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Dan pressed his hand against the print.

"I understand you're not too bright, but come on. It's painfully obvious we can't communicate without lining your hand against the handprint."

Dan's eyes bulged. "Who are you?"

"I'm adding more emphasis on _not too bright_. I'm you, you dimwit. But stronger."

"I gather that much."

"Did you really?" The reflection actually seemed genuinely surprised. "Give me a prize."

"What do you want?" Dan snapped. The reflection shook his head.

"Temper, temper. Always straight-forward, aren't we?"

Dan growled lowly until the reflection held his hands up defensively.

"Alright, alright. What I want, Dan, is your life."

Dan stepped back and loosened his touch on the mirror, but didn't completely let go.

"Don't try to defend yourself, Dan. I know too much about your world and you know nothing about mine. It'll be entertaining to watch you. And trust me, I will be watching."

Dan had so many questions, but he couldn't even open his mouth before a sudden force pulled him closer to the mirror. Nearer and Nearer until he was falling through the mirror itself.

Bright light surrounded him, forcing him to close his eyes. It felt like he was staring at the sun, except maybe he was on the sun. Then the light died down and everything was dark. Black.

And suddenly Dan was falling. Maybe it wasn't everything was dark. Maybe he himself was dark.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dan fluttered his eyelashes open, he expected to be in bed. He expected Phil to be lying on the left side of the bed with Dan on the right. He expected the room to be dark with only one light beam shining through the window onto the brown wooden tiles. He expected Phil to smile a sleepy smile and tell him about a weird dream he had.

Not always is Dan so lucky. He did not wake up in Phil's arms. His eyes flew open and the only thing that blocked the sun from his eyes was a shadow. It was bright where we laid. He could barely crack an eye open without a ray of light burning him

The shadow remained in its spot, hovering over Dan. Dan refused to move, hoping whatever lingered next to him would take him back to Phil. Where he was meant to be. Now that he realized he definitely wasn't in bed, Dan's eyes widened and he sat straight up.

He was on a cold pavement outside. The strange shadow turned out to be a person. The person was frowning, worry showing in his eyes, and his bottom lip glued to his top lip.

"Are you okay?" The anxious man asked. The stranger stretched his hand out assist Dan up.

Dan grunted as he rose off the stone concrete. "Yeah, fine. I think."

Dans feet were numb. He nearly collapsed back onto the ground as his knees buckled from the lack of feeling in his feet.

"Are you sure? You look like you're freezing."

When the man mentioned it, as if on cue, Dan shivered. He didn't realize how cold London was in the early hours. It's not like he ever went outside at...whatever time it was.

"Can I buy you a hot drink? Your thin clothing doesn't look much warming."

"No, I'm fine. My flat isn't far," Dan lied. Truthfully, he didn't know where he was. He and Phil's flat could be across town for all he knew. What in Hell even happened last night?

"Now, that's not true. I can see yourself lying. Maddy and Catty's is just over there," the man pointed to a small pastry shop down the road.

"I have my own money, I really don't need you paying for me."

The stranger grinned. "So that's a yes, then. Can you walk? You seem a bit frazzled."

Dan didn't socialize with many people in London, but the dirty and un-amused looks strangers gave him when they were impatient showed they usually weren't kind. Most people would scoff at someone lying on the ground, probably assuming it was a drunk, and scurry away.

The people in his location, however, seemed to be the opposite. People around Dan and the stranger gave him pitying looks and expressions of sympathy. He must have somehow traveled farther than he thought.

Confused by the compassionate crowd, he agreed to going to the shop.

Dan had a limp in his walk, the reason unknown to Dan. He was still confused as to why he suddenly woke on a busy street. He didn't think he would want to know what happened the previous night to cause this. The strange man gave a caring look and made a gesture for Dan to put his weight on him.

As they opened the shop door, a bell placed above their heads chimed. It gave Dan a warm feeling. He always liked the atmosphere of warm shops with a friendly vibe.

A young woman behind the counter grinned at the two men and greeted them with a _hello_.

With the scent of freshly baked bread permeating the room, Dan couldn't help but greet her back.

The stranger seemed pleased with Dan's kind actions toward the woman. "You seem really nice. So what's the deal with you sleeping on the pavement?"

Dan shrugged, not knowing how to answer. "Must have had too many drinks," he mumbled. Dan turned to the lady behind the counter and said, "Large hot chocolate, three baklava squares, a slice of cherry pie, and a chocolate muffin, please." The woman winked and walked over to the food storage. The stranger chuckled.

"Hungry?"

Dan flushed. He didn't understand why Brits have to be so posh and order small portions of food. Dan is always selfish when it comes to meals.

The stranger ordered a coffee and biscuit, making Dan feel foolish for purchasing so much to eat.

The stranger seemed to hear Dan's thoughts, because he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised how much normal people eat this early."

At Dan's curious look, the stranger continued. "I can't eat much in the morning. Seems too rushed and my stomach feels the need to rid of my breakfast."

"What time is it, anyway?" Dan asked.

The man glanced at his phone. "Seven."

No wonder Dan was freezing. Temperatures can be dangerously low in the mornings.

Dan found a square table with two chairs across from each other by the window. Dan sat down promptly, memorized by the floral design carved onto the table. The stranger seemed reluctant, but forced a smile and sat down.

A thin sheet of glass surfaced the table, the design engraved resting below it. Fog covered the window, permitting Dan to draw squiggles.

They ate in silence, Dan focusing on his memories of last night. He remembered something with Phil, but that doesn't explain why he woke in the streets. He couldn't have had alcohol, because he would have a hangover. All he remembers is Phil breaking his mirror, buying a new one...

Fuck.

Images suddenly flooded his mind. Images of his reflection with such malevolence, speaking darkly at Dan.

"Hey, are you sure you okay? You look queasy," the stranger's concerned expression from earlier returned. The stranger's eyebrows knit together and he squinted trying to examine Dan.

But Dan couldn't hear him. His reflection mentioned a world. Something about Dan not knowing about the reflection's world. What the fuck did that even mean? Reflections can't have worlds. They don't even have a conscious.

The stranger appeared even more worried now. He placed his hand on Dan's cheek, a light touch spreading warmth through his face.

Dan did the only sensible thing to do at a time of such confusion- he bolted. He jumped up and whispered a sorry to the man, but Dan doubted he could be heard. Dan didn't run far, though, because before he could exit the building, he collided with a rather familiar chest.

Dan gasped when he recognized the figure.

"P-Phil?"


	3. Chapter 3

Dan's relief when he bumped into Phil has instantaneous. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering reassurance that Phil was here mollifying his anxieties.

If Dan had been shivering from the cold before, he didn't remember it. Warmth automatically pervaded his body being in close proximity to Phil.

"Dan?" Phil seemed as surprised as Dan. That's when Dan noticed Phil staring at the stranger. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

Dan gasped, his mouth forming a perfect circle. His eyebrows were raised, his forehead creating several horizontal creases. Phil must have been panicking, seeing Dan with a complete stranger.

 _He thinks I'm cheating on him_ , Dan thought.

Dan shook his head with force, habitually stepping toward Phil in attempt to comfort him.

"No, he isn't...We aren't...No."

"Oh."

"I'm not cheating on you," Dan clarified.

Phil gave him an odd look but didn't question it. "Who is he, then?" he asked, turning to the man again.

The stranger awkwardly cleared his throat, obviously sensing he and Phil were together. "I just saw him asleep on the street. He looked cold, I didn't think of any alternate motive or anything." The man seemed to shrink under Phil's gaze, which didn't make much sense to Dan. His gaze wasn't even intense. If the stranger saw Phil when he was jealous, then that would be an appropriate time to run.

Dan nodded his head and cleared his own throat. "Bye," he waved to the stranger as he wrapped an arm around Phil's side and directed him out the shop.

Phil tensed slightly but allowed the contact.

"So what are you doing out this early?" Dan asked.

Phil shrugged. "Just getting donuts for Deacan." Phil lifted the box in his hands for emphasis.

Dan stiffened. "Who's Deacan?" He barked.

Phil huffed and detached himself from Dan. The older man walked a few steps faster, gaining lead of Dan. This was no accident; Phil had a habit of doing this when he became annoyed.

"No, really. I don't think I know a Deacan." Dan felt generally confused. Because of his lack of friends, remembering his friends' name is easy. Not only did the name not sound familiar, he couldn't even tell if he actually had met this 'Deacan'.

Phil stopped and turned to Dan. He had a glare on his face and his hands were clenched into fists. "I know you might not _like_ him, but the least you can do is pretend to be nice to him in my presence," he spat venomously.

Dan stepped back, startled at the furious tone. Phil ignored this and continued walking, his steps gradually becoming larger and louder as he stomped his feet every step.

They fell into a very uncomfortable silence - at least to Dan- and Dan had to shift his weight from one side of his body to the other because of the agonizing feeling growing.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I was lying on the pavement outside?"

Phil's tense mood didn't lighten. "Your business is yours."

Dan pouted. "Truth is, I don't know why. I was hoping you would know."

"I was with my boyfriend."

Dan gave an uncertain smile. "Well, that makes it easier, doesn't it?"

Phil didn't reply.

He rolled his eyes at Phil's game. Honestly, what was the point of winding Dan up? "So...?"

Phil sent a sideways glance at Dan. "So?" Phil seemed unamused.

"So where was I?"

"Didn't I just tell you? I don't know."

"You literally just said you did," Dan raised his voice.

"No, I was with my boyfriend," Phil said through clenched teeth.

"I _am_ your boyfriend."

"No, you're _not_!" Philinsisted with a louder voice than before.

"Yes, I _am_!" They were shouting. Their voices could be heard from across the streets, but they didn't care. If people stopped to stare at the angry couple, they didn't take notice.

"I think I would know if we were dating." Phil's face was a deep shade of red - definitely not from blushing, Dan knew - and Dan felt he himself looked the same.

"We've been together since we met."

"We have been _friends_ since we met."

"Have you been brainwashed?" Although the idea seemed improbable, Dan had no other clue as to why Phil would deny their relationship.

"Maybe _you_ are, seeing as though you don't remember Deacan. Not to mention you think we're dating."

"But we _are_ dating."

"No, we _aren't_ ," Phil huffed.

"You said we were earlier." Dan balled his fists, fighting off the urge to shake his boyfriend.

"I said I was with my boyfriend."

"I _am_ your boyfriend." The game Phil was playing was no longer funny.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself that no, we are not dating and have never dated."

"Who's your boyfriend, then?"

"Deacan!"

Dan's eyes widened and he took a step back. He shook his head. "No, you're lying."

"Why the hell would I lie to you?"

"Phil, stop denying we're dating."

"God, Dan, it's like you're from an alternate universe."

With those triggering words, all memories from last night suddenly came back. Funnily enough, he _was_ from an alternate universe.

He was drowning in flashbacks. He couldn't breathe. All the flashes of memories overwhelmed him. His face grew pale, all color draining from his skin. He felt cold all over. Phil's presence no longer warmed him. Dan couldn't blink. He couldn't move. He was forced to endure the harrowing events, unable to escape his thoughts.

How the fuck did he forget about all this?

Everything suddenly made sense -why he awoke on the pavement, why he and Phil aren't dating, why Phil has a supposed boyfriend named Deacan.

The reflection in the mirror said he wanted Dan's life. Maybe this is why he wanted to switch lives. He was fucking jealous that he and Phil were in a relationship.

 _And now I'm bloody stuck here with an agitated Phil and his boyfriend, Deacan._

Great.

Despite being angry, Phil asked, "Is something wrong?"

Dan gave a humorless chuckle. "Yes."

Phil looked concerned- his eyes softened and he reached a hand out to place on Dan's shoulder.

Dan refused to meet Phil's gaze. Dan took a light intake of breath before saying, "No, nothing is wrong. I'm fine." It didn't sound convincing to Dan, and Phil himself looked unconvinced, but with the mixed emotions between the two, they made a wordless agreement to remain silent.


	4. Chapter 4

To say Dan felt uncomfortable on the walk to their flat was an understatement. Phil was visibly tense; his shoulders were locked and his feet landed on the ground stiffly when he stepped. Dan inferred Phil to be slightly miffed from their public row just minutes before.

Dan was no different from Phil. He took large, rigid stomps and huffed loudly at the image of Phil kissing someone who was not Dan. He hoped Phil could read his mind and get the idea that Phil doing boyfriend things with a boyfriend who wasn't Phil's true boyfriend was ridiculous. Dan huffed once more, now aggravated Phil didn't have the power of telepathy.

They still remained silent when they boarded the train. They found a decent seat that was not crowded by people—seat being singular. Phil urged Dan to sit in the open seat, but Dan just huffed and grabbed onto the bar. Dan was still angry at Phil for having a partner not named Dan.

Dan felt Phil's gaze on him. In the corner of his eye, he saw Phil staring at him with a confused look. He continued to blatantly ignore the older man and stare at the now interesting wall. The wall was bland; only a minute speck of color dusted it. Even then, the color was a murky brown than any other color from the rainbow. Dan assumes it was probably a coffee spill someone splashed onto the wall by accident.

By the time they reached the door of their flat, both men were wheezing from exhaustion. The flight of stairs they had to take was no different from the stairs in Dan's real flat. Both stairs ended with fatigue and sometimes even tiny droplets of sweat in the summertime.

The tense silence loosened between the two. Phil had even opened his mouth widely a few times to start a conversation, but decided against it at the last second. Dan was too stubborn to start the talk, and Phil just seemed intimidated by Dan's random anger, so they let the silence continue. It was no longer a neurotic silence, though, and now more of an awkward one.

They may be living together, but that doesn't mean they are any better at talking now than they are in public. Plus, Dan didn't know yet how much this Phil differed from his real Phil, and risking his entire friendship is not worth it.

Entering the flat, Dan had gotten a whiff of his own scent. He grimaced. He smelled bloody awful.

He turned to Phil. "I'm going to take a shower. Make hot chocolate for me, please?"

Despite being angry at Dan's own anger, Phil nodded and began grabbing ingredients from the cupboards.

Dan grinned and twirled on his heel, heading for the bathroom.

The bathroom hasn't changed much—if you consider the entire layout being mirrored not much. Dan thought he was just losing his mind after being left in the cold outside for long. He had stumbled over furniture when walking to the bathroom. He dismissed it as exhaustion, but when he thought about it, the entire flat seemed to be flipped. Instead of the shower being on the right with the mirror and sink to the left, the shower was located on the left.

It was probably because he had entered this world (is that what it is?) through a mirror, but hallucination was too big of a possibility at the moment to come to a logical conclusion.

All the items were the same. Everything was located where they should be. The apartment was just flipped.

His shower was brisk. There was not a lot of hot water, so he scrubbed down with soap and rinsed it off swiftly. He found a bottle of vanilla scented body lotion. Now, really, who honestly wouldn't go for _that_?

He rubbed the excess lotion from his fingertips onto the palms of his hands. He realized his mistake, however, when he reached for the door handle and found he couldn't open it from the slipperiness of his hands. It took several tries, but he finally opened it eventually.

When he walked into the living room, he had expected to see Phil on the sofa watching anime. What Dan found, however, was a strange man sitting in a chair at the table with Phil, drinking Dan's hot chocolate. Dan's.

The stranger had brown hair a hue lighter than Dan's. The man's eyes were an unusual shade of hazel which, upon thorough inspection, could be interpreted as brown. His face structure was uneven as if God couldn't decide which parent he should look most like so he slapped half and half on each side of his face.

Dan coughed. "I didn't realize you were having company over."

"I told you earlier Deacan was coming over. That was kind of the reason I bought donuts." Phil looked down at the plate of donuts on the table to remind Dan of why they ran into each other.

So. This was Deacan.

He was ugly.

Deacan gave a lopsided smile. "Do you want to join us?"

Dan had to remind himself not to show he was pissed off.

"Well, since you're clearly content with taking my hot chocolate, I doubt you won't want my share of the donuts, as well." Dan glanced down at the hot chocolate and back up at Deacan.

So much for not expressing his mood.

Deacan awkwardly laughed and shrugged. Dan narrowed his eyes.

That was when Phil spoke up. "We were actually thinking of watching some football. It'll be enjoyable with you." Phil acted nonchalant, and Dan felt baffled at his ignorance of Dan's dislike for Deacan.

Also, Dan was baffled by Phil suggesting them to watch sports.

"Phil, you hate football." Dan blinked.

Phil shook his head with force. "No, I don't. I watch it all the time."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Really, Phil, let's just put on an anime. I heard Magi is supposed to be good-"

He was interrupted by Phil dropping a glass mug. "Oops, clumsy me. Here, I'll clean it up. Deacan, go put on a sports channel. I'll be there in a second."

Dan was expecting Deacan to be reluctant to leave Phil with broken shards of glass—he was his _boyfriend_ , after all—but when Deacan nodded and turned to switch to a sports channel, it was obvious he had no intention of helping Phil.

Dan, with a rush of happiness from the knowledge he was a better boyfriend, bent down to help pick the glass up from the floor.

Phil covered Dan's hands with his own. Phil was shaking his head. "No, let me get it. Go watch sports."

"Phil, you're literally going to cut yourself." He shook the hand off and proceeded to sweep up the glass.

He allowed it, but remained next to Dan, scrutinizing Dan an intense stare. His gaze pierced Dan's back with a fervent stare. He shivered inwardly; Phil's intense gaze is simultaneously both intimidating and arousing.

After scooping up the broken shards and tossing them into the bin, he gently placed a kissed on Phil's temple out of habit.

"All done," Dan hummed.

There was an odd look Phil wore, but then again, Phil had an odd face, so it basically cancels out.

Just minutes later, the three of them were lounging on the sofa.

Watching sports.

Anime sports was at least enjoyable for the drama. Real life sports just didn't seem appealing. If all the guys are straight and unattractive, then what's the point of watching them?

Phil and Deacan didn't appear to mind, though. They snuggled together with grins on their faces. Phil looked as if he was enjoying watching people exercise.

Deacan looked liked he was not enjoying himself as much. He was yelling at the television, complaining with obscenities and grumbling whenever the sports players didn't effectuate his commands. The man even jumped off the sofa to voice his thoughts rather loudly.

Phil apparently thought it was endearing; whenever Deacan would shout, Phil would giggle and say, "They can't hear you, babe."

The adorable giggles from Phil not directed towards Dan were becoming more obnoxious.

Almost as obnoxious as Deacan's constant yapping.

Dan rose from the sofa with exertion. The two lovers were rapidly becoming revolting and Dan felt overwhelmed. He stomped to his room, hoping his erratic footsteps would make it clear he was annoyed.

Also, he hoped Deacan would crawl inside a cardboard box and ship himself to someone in Canada.

He plopped down onto his bed, making a couple of the springs jump noisily.

His laptop was now pulled onto his lap. Scrolling through Tumblr, he saw many 'phan' posts claiming to be proof. The posts were correct, though. At least in Dan's world it was.

The longer he stayed in his room, the louder Phil and Deacan seemed to be. The sound of Phil's laughter lingered longer than usual. Phil called Deacan pets names more frequently, his voice gradually becoming softer yet louder.

Dan knew many things about Phil from living with him. He knew his habits and personality. He knows when he fakes a persona. So it was obvious to Dan that Phil was trying to taunt the fact he and Deacan were a thing to Dan.

Phil becomes louder when he's trying to be impressive, which does not suit his usually quiet personality.

Dan wondered if this Phil new he was his boyfriend from another dimension. It would certainly explain why he's all over Deacan.

The lid of his laptop snapped shut.

He needed some fresh air.

Black shoes slipped onto his feet and he walked towards their front door as he put his coat on. He had already froze from the cold today. There doesn't need to be a repeat.

"Where are you going?" Phil asked, looking disappointed.

"Out."

Phil's eyebrows furrowed. "You already were out this morning."

Dan hummed in agreement but said nothing more.

With that, he skipped down the stairs. Phil looked a little crestfallen as Dan left, but Dan refused to acknowledge it.

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew the neighborhood well enough that he could locate the nearest Starbucks.

It had warmed a generous amount since he was last out, but with the crisp London chill in the air, he was glad he had brought a coat. Clouds above coalesced, a lid of white covering the dark, rainy sky.

When he stepped into Starbucks, the scent of coffee beans and cream wafted over him. He breathed in the comfortable fragrance. Everything in this world may be different, but at least the familiar coffee shop didn't change.

The barista smiled warmly, the apples of her cheeks round, her nose tainted pink from the chilly weather.

"What will it be?" she asked, the smile never leaving her face.

Dan glanced at the black chalkboard above her head that had the menu written on it with various colors. The colors were soft on the eyes; baby blue and pastel pink flowers were drawn. A list of beverages were painted in neat handwriting with a banana shade of yellow chalk. It was a truly beautiful feature.

"A birthday cake frappuccino, please."

The barista brightened at the words. "That's one of the best. Too bad it's only here for a while, though. It's a special. We stop making them next week."

Dan grinned politely. "Lucky me, then."

The barista winked. "What is your name, hun?"

"Dan."

"Size?"

"At least ask me out on a date, first."

The girl chuckled. "Alright, then. Maybe if you pay. Size drink, then?"

"Venti, please."

"That will be four pounds, sir."

Dan gave her the cash and the girl turned away to make the drink.

The pitter-patter of rain hitting the windows could be heard over the quiet murmur of women talking and a man flipping the pages of a newspaper.

A minute later, the barista called, "One venti birthday cake frappe for Dan!"

He grabbed the drink as he thanked the girl.

The drink itself was white with black specks that Dan suspected was Oreo crumbs. A pastel pink whip topped it. It tasted of cookies and cream with liquid cake icing.

Since it was raining, now would be an inappropriate time to stroll down the park. He didn't want to return back to the flat and listen to the annoying sounds of Phil's lovey-dovey cooing. Making a quick decision, he headed towards a shopping centre. He recalled once he found an anime shop.

Dan took three steps into the store before the clerk behind the counter stopped him. "Sir, you can not have drinks here."

"Oh, I won't spill anything."

The clerk looked hesitant. His eyebrows knitted together and his lips puckered in concentration.

"Alright. You spill it on something, though, you have to purchase it."

Dan gave a thankful nod and dawdled through the store. He felt the need to be cautious not to splash his drink, knowing his history of clumsiness.

He found a Pikachu plushie sat on a shelf and exuberantly scampered over. If luck was a person, then it was obviously on vacation, as Dan tripped over the pesky air. His foot twisted in a weird way that thankfully caught his body and prevented him from collapsing on the ground.

Unfortunately, his feet were unable to stop his drink from pouring on the merchandise. The white drink dribbled onto a few shirts hanging, a conglomeration of Pokemon items, and the Pikachu plushie.

Dan panicked. He was not about to buy an unnecessary amount of anime merchandise just because his feet hated him. He grabbed a few items off other shelves and shoved them on the now wet ones, hoping it would hide them until it dried. He briskly skipped out of the store, praying to God that the store clerk didn't see that.

Feeling chagrined, he chose to return to the flat.

That's what he gets for going outside.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Dan could be found in the kitchen attempting to cook pancakes. He thought Phil would appreciate not cooking breakfast, and Dan woke up hungry, so waiting for Phil to wake up was not an option.

He had added too much butter to the batter, making the pancakes rather yellow. He splashed milk everywhere, the tile flooring now soaked. He nearly tripped several times from the white puddles.

The batter looked more watery than what the recipe ordered. Dan frowned. He wanted to surprise Phil with a delicious meal; pancakes with berries and homemade syrup sounded perfect. But it appeared to be turning out to be a flop.

Cooking perfectly was hard, but Dan felt Phil deserved a nice meal. Phil was worth it.

There was a reason Phil had always been the one to cook. Dan, though he was _able_ to cook, was incredibly greedy with measuring the ingredients, resulting in the dish being either mushy and uneatable or twice as much as they both could eat. Despite Phil being the clumsier person, Dan had a knack for dropping ingredients. He was known for butterfingers, after all.

Dan wiped his forehead, smudging flour on his temple. Not that he didn't already have some on his face—a mix of syrup and milk rested on his cheek. He intended for the syrup to be thicker than it was, but something happened when he added the liquids and he dumped the entire bottle in.

"Dan?" Phil called out.

Dan jumped, startled. Unfortunately, he jumped right under a milk puddle and his body twisted until his feet slipped. He fell on his arse, milk splattering onto his clothing.

Phil gasp and was right by his side in an instant. "God, Dan, I'm sorry." Phil stretched out a hand for Dan to grab onto. Phil's face scrunched up and his eyes softened.

Dan grasped Phil's hand, pulling up from the ground. He noted the warmth in Phil's hand to remember later.

"I really am sorry." His tone was tender and sympathetic.

"I look like I wet myself," Dan whined. Milk covered the back of his trousers and the groin area.

Phil chuckled. "Since the milk is white, you look like you did something entirely different."

"This was my only clean pair of jeans left," he groaned.

The black-haired man jutted his lower lip, creating a mock pout. "Aw, you poor thing," he mimicked.

The glare Dan give made Phil chuckle even harder.

"What are you even doing?" Phil asked after his fit of laughter.

"I was trying to make pancakes for us, but as you can see, I'm having a bit of trouble." Dan pointed to the wet spot.

Phil's eyes traveled downward for a moment before glancing at the mess on the counter. Then he smiled. "I'll tell you what. You go shower—yes, you _do_ need one—and I'll finish up in here."

Dan protested at first, but Phil just hummed and refused to acknowledge that the younger man was speaking. He huffed and turned on his heel, the wet patches of denim sticking to his skin.

When he returned, the kitchen was still messy and the pancakes were set on a plate, burned.

"I thought you said you would take care of this," Dan murmured.

Phil grinned. "I was just trying to get you in the shower."

Dan started loading dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "Why's that?" He asked with a curious side-glance.

"You're lazy in the morning and I didn't think you would agree to going out in a bit."

Dan's heart sped up. "Go out?" His voice was quavery and an octave higher.

His nervousness went unnoticed by Phil. "Yeah. Deacan's daughter has a volleyball game this morning and invited us."

Dan's breathing stopped. "Oh."

 _Daughter_? God, did Phil and Deacan _adopt_ someone?

"Yep. We should leave in half an hour." Phil paused. "Are you wearing my jeans?" he asked curiously, squinting the corner of his eyes slightly as he stared at Dan's legs.

"I told you I didn't have any clean trousers," he smirked.

Phil rolled his eyes. "Whatever," was mumbled as he left.

The gym they were in was cold. Dan had expected it to be warm because of a crowd of people running. Apparently, nobody cared if anyone turned into ice cubes you could put in drinks. That was probably what they were aiming for; the girls running the concession stand had run out of ice. It didn't help that the bleachers they sat on were metal.

Dan shivered for the umpteenth time. Phil took notice.

"Do you want my jumper?" he asked, grabbing the sleeve of his jumper with his other hand. He pushed it towards Dan for emphasis.

Dan shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"You have goosebumps." Phil was frowning now.

"You'll get some yourself if you give me your jumper."

"It's no problem, really. You need the extra layer more than me," Phil insisted.

Dan sighed. The argument was pointless. Phil is always persistent when it comes to other peoples' comfort.

"Alright, whatever."

Phil grinned. He lifted the jumper, pulling it over his head. The shirt he was wearing underneath rode up, showing the raven-haired man's hipbones.

The man really did have nice hipbones.

Dan gulped and looked away.

Phil, appearing unaware of the situation, smiled soundly and handed him the jumper.

Dan hoped he wasn't blushing as he put in on.

Suddenly, everyone screamed. Cheers ran through the entire crowd of people on the bleachers. Some even stood and applauded.

Deacan, being on the other side of Phil, pressed entirely too close to Phil for Dan's liking and enthusiastically said, "That was such a good volley!"

Phil nodded with an exuberant smile. Dan narrowed his eyes in disgust.

Really, Phil didn't even _like_ sports. Why were he and Deacan so bloody engrossed in these things?

Speaking of people being engrossed, Deacan seemed to always be finding excuses to touch Phil. Anytime the team they were rooting for scored, Deacan put a hand on Phil's shoulder. When a time-out was called, he would turn to Phil with a flirtatious look and started a conversation. He seemed to be boasting his relationship with Phil to Dan. It was maddening.

When Deacan made eye conact with Dan when Deacan pressed his palm against Phil's cheek, he decided enough was enough.

Two can fucking play at that game.

Dan tugged the hem of Phil's shirt. "Phil," he whispered.

Phil turned to him, love visible in his eyes. Dan's heart nearly melted, but collected himself when he remembered it was probably for Deacan.

An idea began to form in his mind. He would have smirked at his sheer genius-ness, but didn't want to reveal anything.

He leaned to Phil's ear, lips only barely grazing the skin. "I'm horny," he whined.

"What?" Phil's eyes bulged and his lips parted. His eyes traveled down to Dan's crotch, quickly snapping back up with pink cheeks.

"There's people wearing provocative shorts," Dan whispered so only Phil could hear him.

Phil gulped."They are minors."

True, being turned on by eleven year olds is a bit creepy, but Dan couldn't think of anything else on the spot.

"That doesn't get rid of the problem." Dan looked down at his crotch. Phil's gaze followed. Dan wasn't much aroused, but the image of Phil fucking him against a wall was enough to make his state believable.

At that moment, someone had won a match and the people surrounding Dan jumped to their feet to cheer. Deacan, while locking eyes with Dan, gave a quick peck to Phil's cheek.

Dan huffed. He leaned towards Phil and whispered harshly, "Fine, I'm gonna take care of it myself."

He got up and went to the restroom, hoping Phil was imagining Dan wanking right now.

Madelyn, the name of Deacan's daughter Dan soon learned, team had won the game. Phil had suggested they get some celebratory ice cream. Phil, who takes pleasure in pleasing others, took them to the fanciest, most expensive ice cream parlor there was. It was unusual for an ice cream shop to have a set theme, but this pastel-themed shop had Dan melting in aesthetic pleasure.

Phil insisted he order the ice cream and let the three others sit and chat. Deacan refused to leave Phil alone, much to Dan's annoyance. Really, did he not allow Phil to leave his sight for one second? What, does he follow Phil into the restroom, as well?

That left Dan alone with Madelyn. Dan cleared his throat.

"So, you're Deacan's daughter?"

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "I don't really know you, so I can't tell how intelligent you are, but I hoped you would be able to figure that out on your own."

What a cheeky asshole.

"Well, I mean..Um-"

"Are you always this incompetent?" The girl's tone was bland, sounding nothing like a question.

"I was just wondering who you're parents were."

Madelyn rolled her eyes. "I think we already decided Deacan was my father."

"No, I mean...Like, is Phil your dad, too? Or do you, like, have a mum?"

"No, I don't have a mum, I just broke the law of physics."

This conversation really wasn't going well.

"You know what I mean," he said acutely, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm just poking fun, of course I know what you meant. No, Phil's not my dad. He's like one, though."

"So who's your mum, then?"

"I don't really know her. She got pregnant and then dad decided it was the perfect time to come out. She kicked dad out of the house when she found out he was, in her own words, 'an inconsiderate fag'."

"Really, you are one yourself, you should be used to the crude language by now."

"How did you know I was gay?"

"Oh, please, everything about you just screams 'GAY'."

"Anyway, she kicked him out, but he demanded custody of me." Her voice seemed to trail off slightly and she looked out the window momentarily, but collected herself soon after. "But to answer your question, no, Phil is not my dad. You still have a chance with him."

Dan snuck a peek at Deacan and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He would rather drink toilet water.

"No thanks, he's not my type."

"I'm not talking about my dad, you corn-brain. _Phil_." Madelyn looked like she was trying to clarify something to a five year old. Dan paid no attention to that, because he was too busy trying to figure out if he was that obvious.

"How'd you know about that?"

"It's fucking obvious," she explained nonchalantly.

"I don't think an eleven year old like yourself should be swearing."

Madelyn sniffed."Getting off topic won't distract me."

"Insistent little bugger, aren't you?"

"At times," she hummed. "Now, as I was saying, you have a chance with Phil."

"He has a boyfriend."

She snorted. "Right, like that's a valid excuse. My dad was married to my mum even though he was gay."

"He doesn't even like me. He likes Deacan."

"If that's true, then why are you two still living together?" For the second time, Dan had nothing to say.

At that moment, Deacan and Phil walked up to them, two ice cream cones in each of their hands.

"Sorry it took so long, the line was really long." Phil handed Dan his ice cream.

They sat together at a round table, having a conversation and eating their ice cream lick-by-lick. Dan kept glancing at Phil, which didn't go unnoticed to Madelyn, if her smug looks were anything to go by.


End file.
